


So Much Time

by starshine (darkwood)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Consequences, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Heraht Adaar - Freeform, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Rejection, Slow Build, more like, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:22:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5350580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkwood/pseuds/starshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Haven, the Commander rejected the Inquisitor.</p><p>In Skyhold, the Inquisitor attempts to honor his wishes.</p><p>To do so, the Inquisitor distances herself from the Commander.</p><p>Cullen hadn't realized distance would be such an issue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
Something was off, but Cullen couldn’t put his finger on it. Everything since Haven was a blur of snow and heated arguments, and the newly minted Inquisitor had born it all without complaint.  
  
She lifted the sword and declared the Inquisition - her Inquisition - for what was right.  
  
It was years since he was so proud to serve.  
  
Still, something wasn’t quite right.  
  
He spent weeks wondering about it, weeks in which their Inquisitor scaled walls and forced doors in their half-crumbled keep, weeks of surprising reports from the builders about her participation in the rennovations.  
  
When he realized, he felt as though a tower’s worth of stone had crashed onto him.  
  
She had not met his eyes since before the fall of Haven.  
  
Cullen missed her gaze.  
  
From time to time he caught her, almost, but she was quick to cast her gaze away, diligent in regarding the map and the reports at the war table, and did not linger when the conversation might stray from the business of the Inquisition. If she were training with the recruits and he arrived, she deferred to him, tucking away sword and handing off shield as she ceded the ring to him. Not that they had crossed swords before, but she had been happy to offer her assistance when she had time.  
  
Now it was more formal, distant.  
  
That unsettled Cullen. He could think of nothing that had changed between them. She was Inquisitor now, but she had been Herald before, and they had not been so… so… It was stranger still to find that more than her gaze, Cullen found that he missed her.  
  
Aware of his concern, he caught her as she headed into the garden.

 

  
  
“Inquisitor,” he said.  
  
Her shoulders stiffened and though she stopped, she did not turn. “Commander,” she acknowledged.  
  
That was not his intent. He stepped forward, close enough to touch her arm. “Heraht,” he tried again.  
  
The hunch relaxed, but her gaze dropped to the stone before her feet.  
  
“Have I done something-” Cullen began. “Have I angered you?”  
  
She was silent for a long moment before she said. “It would not be fair of me to say, Commander.”  
  
There it was again, his title, like a wall between them.  
  
“I don’t want you to be fair,” Cullen said, frowning. “I want an answer.”  
  
“I have duties to attend to,” Heraht snapped, hands closing into fists. “Isn’t that what you wanted me to concern myself with?”  
  
Taken aback at that, Cullen’s hand fell from her back. “What I wanted-? When did-?”  
  
She looked back at him then, as he stammered in confusion, and their eyes caught for a moment. There was such longing in her gaze that Cullen fell silent, throat suddenly dry, caught up in it.  
  
“It’s- it’s just a silly crush,” Heraht said, turning her head quickly away. She stalked forward, passing through the door into the garden, and slammed it behind her, leaving Cullen in the breezeway.  
  
_Maker,_ he thought, _what did I **say?**_  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

It was only a few days before the Inquisitor was gone again from Skyhold, and Cullen was left alone with his thoughts. Now that he knew there was some problem, specifically now that he knew there was something he had done to cause what bothered him, he sought a way to fix it.

 

The trouble was, he truly did not remember what it was that he had said. He spent several days going over what he could recall of their conversations from Haven, but all he could recall was a windy afternoon with the sun too bright and her hair - it had been shorter then, he thought - whipping in the wind that came cutting through the snowy heights.

 

Of course there had been words, she didn't seem the type to take up his time with idle strolls in the freezing cold, but Cullen could not recall a single one of them.

 

And that was a significant obstacle.

 

Coming out and asking Heraht would do no good. Whatever he'd said obviously left quite an impression on her if she could barely look at him now. Varric was a bad idea, Cullen thought, unless he wanted the exchange to end up as fodder for the next of the dwarf's serials. He could find equal arguments against her other companions - Sera, Bull, Blackwall, Vivienne, Solas-

 

Maker take that, asking Solas about it would end in flames.

 

Of her companions who might know, he had to cut down the list to Cassandra and Dorian.

 

Dorian was the easiest to approach with it, though a younger version of himself would have rebelled at the idea that a mage was more approachable than a Seeker. The two of them were in the habit of playing chess on Thursday afternoons, when they could, and Dorian was a bit of a gossip.

 

Over the course of their friendship - Cullen could admit it for what it was, now - he had been regaled with everything from the cheap marble in the chateaus in the Emerald Graves to how the Inquisitor was overly fond of a good piece of fried fish. "Criminal, really," Dorian said, "though I imagine it's at least healthy and readily available in the Free Marches."

 

Cullen hadn't known what to make of it at the time, but the excess of information would be... useful, if directed it properly.

 

He waited until they were into their second game before he broached the subject, going for subtlety. "How has all the traveling been? The pack of you have been mobile enough that it's almost like you're on the run."

 

"I've worn through several pairs of nicely made boots," Dorian said, "and if I hear one more word from Varric about the quality of rocks in his shoes, I may light that coat of his on fire."

 

That brought a smile to Cullen's lips, at least.

 

"You'll find a complaint from every one of us but Heraht," Dorian went on. "Either her mercenary days were a travel writer's envy, or she's avoiding something."

 

Cullen looked up and saw the flat look Dorian was giving him.

 

So much for subtlty.

 

"She is, is she?" Cullen asked softly.

 

"Oh don't go with the wounded soldier look, I can't stand it," Dorian said, sniffing and shaking his head. "She avoids it. Whatever 'it' is. I didn't even realize there was an 'it' until the last time she rode out of here like a thunderclap. She nearly left the rest of us in a cloud of dust."

 

With a sigh, Cullen rubbed his forehead. "That..." he sighed.

 

"My advice, since you seem to be subtly soliciting it," Dorian said, "is to talk to her. Whatever's happened can't be so bad as all that. She hasn't cleaved you in twain, after all. She does that to people she doesn't like."

 

It was fair enough advice, but Cullen had already tried that.

 

Switching tactics, he went to Cassandra.

 

She, at least, he needn't beat around the bush with.

 

He found her reading in her little loft above the armory. When he came up she made a move for her shield, but he stayed her with a gesture of his hand. "You've come to talk, then?" Cassandra asked, finding a piece of ribbon to mark her place in her book.

 

"Yes," Cullen said, finding a seat at the table with a sigh.

 

"Is it bad?" Cassandra asked gently as she joined him, taking the seat opposite him at the table. "You seemed to be holding up rather well. I have sensed no danger from you for some time."

 

"That's the problem," Cullen replied. He rubbed his forehead.

 

"This is not to do with the lyrium at all, is it?" Cassandra asked.

 

"No," Cullen admitted. "It's more to do with... the Inquisitor."

 

"She mentioned you found her attentions... displeasing. When she asked, I thought she understood what you might find offensive. Has she-" Cassandra stopped, searching his face. "No, she hasn't been inappropriate with you."

 

"Not remotely," Cullen agreed. "She's been withdrawn and... polite."

 

"You will forgive my surly expression, I hope," Cassandra said, putting her hands on the table. "When men are discussing a woman such as the Inquisitor and call her 'polite' I find myself on guard against their next statement."

 

"You needn't fear me in that regard," Cullen replied. He stared at the table for a moment. He wasn't sure how to phrase this.

 

Cassandra left him in silence. Dorian's suggestion had merit, but he didn't have all the facts about Cullen. Cassandra was more privy to his particular concerns, and more than that she was his... watchdog. There was no sense withholding the truth from her.

 

"I don't remember it."

 

"What is it, precisely?"

 

"Whatever I said to turn her down," Cullen said. "It must have been something, it may have been harsh or- Maker knows what, Cassandra. I've tried to remember, but all I can piece together is that we were out in the snow."

 

"Truly?"

 

When he looked up, he found Cassandra studying his face intently. Her expression was impassive, and her eyes intent, searching his face for something - some dishonesty or- who knows what.

 

Cullen felt the frown tugging his lips down, felt the confusion and the shame at being so easily dissected by a stern gaze. It was like being a recruit and getting caught sighing after Apprentice Amell only so, so much worse.

 

He couldn't help but wonder how many times Cassandra had seen this before, how many Templars she had watched making just this same confession. How many, he wondered with alarming clarity, had been lying?

 

He had done as much in the past, and he could not have been the first.

 

"And you are... distressed by her withdrawal?" Cassandra asked carefully.

 

"It's... it's unexpected. I only just noticed and I..." he paused, unsure of how best to answer. "I..." there were things he could say, things that he missed or had come to appreciate, but somehow it felt like any of that would sound wrong just then. Any of that would make it sound like the Inquisitor's favor was his by right, or- some sort of possession.

 

There was only one thing that could be said with no strings and no expectations. "I do not like it."

 

"Think carefully," Cassandra said. "I assume, from your approach, that you would like my assistance, but I will not do a disservice to either of you."

 

"Disservice?"

 

Cassandra rose from her chair and stepped over to the window that overlooked the training grounds. At this hour the ring was empty, but there was no lack of metal clanging within the armory to make up for the lack of swords clashing below.

 

"It is not fair to ask me to speak to her," Cassandra concluded, one hand brushing the window sill, "unless you are aware of what may be the cosequences. Not unless you can accept them."

 

"What consequences?"

 

"You already know how she feels," Cassandra said, looking over her shoulder at him, "or at least how she felt. If you... dislike her current interaction with you..." Cassandra stopped, letting the unsaid words hang in the air between them.

 

Oh.

 

Cullen had not quite thought of it in that manner.

 

"If you are not prepared, you should let her get over you," Cassandra said, turning her attention back to the window. "It would be kinder to her, to you both. Once she is over it, she may be able to speak with you more... comfortably."

 

Cullen had no ready answer. He stared at Cassandra's back and thanked Andraste she was there for guidance. "I... will... have to consider that. Carefully," Cullen said.

 

Downstairs the door to the armory opened and the heavy footsteps into the room could only be the Inquisitor or the Iron Bull.

 

"Cassandra," Heraht called up. "Are you up there?"

 

Both Cullen and Cassandra looked up. Their eyes met, and Cullen shook his head.

 

"I'll be down in a moment," Cassandra called back, turning and gathering her book up on her way to the stairs.

 

Cullen stood there quietly, waiting until Cassandra directed Heraht back out into the courtyard. Then he let himself breathe again, and after a bit longer of a wait he ducked out the side door and made his way up the stairs so he could head back to his office.

 

There was plenty to think about, and even more work to be done.


End file.
